Chapter 25

“Gretchen, I know what you did,” I say, very seriously. I flop onto my back on my bed, one hand holding the phone to my ear, the other tucked under the pillow at my head.

Gretchen squeals. “I sure as hell hope that means he finally asked you out.”

“Your smart mouth is going to get you in so much trouble!” I shout. “How could you do that?!”

“HE ASKED YOU OUT, DIDN’T HE?” she yells back.

“YES, BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MYSELF.” I groan. It’s been a few days, but the fears have already begun to settle. (What if I’m a terrible girlfriend? How does one average human rise to the occasion of dating the world’s prettiest boy?)

“Just accept this gift I’ve given you,” Gretchen argues.

“It’s too much, too awesome.”

She snorts. “Get over yourself.” A pause, and a very suspicious hmmm. Then, “Has he kissed you yet?”

I groan again. “Dude, we’ve been on one date and spent the Fourth of July together. This hardly calls for kissing. Besides, I’m not ready for it yet.”

I can just feel Gretchen’s eye-roll. “You. Are. A. Liar.”

“I am not.”

“You so want him to kiss you.”

“Yeah, but not now.”

Gretchen makes another humming noise, this time disbelieving. “And how is he going to feel about your, um, unusual but honorable conviction? You know, your most important decision ever?”

“Shhh!” I blush. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Gretchen snorts. “Whatever. I’m just happy you’re finally together. Guess what? I’m sending you a letter in the mail.”

“What?!” (Thing You Should Know About Me #12433: I like to write and read handwritten letters. I even hang the most special ones on my wall because I’m a sentimental old goat.)

“Yeah, I found this old stationery in a recently unpacked box from the garage, and thought I’d make your day.”

I’m about to answer when my bed dips. I whip around, shouting incoherent nonsense in a brief moment of terror before realizing Levi is lying down beside me. He almost falls off from my jostling.

“Shit! Bee!” he exclaims, but he’s laughing.

I scramble, realizing I’ve lost my phone in the fray. I find it—right as it slips into the crack between my bed and the wall.

Thump.

“Leviiiiii,” I groan, smacking him on the arm as he clumsily gets off the bed. “You made me drop Gretchen.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He leans over the crack where the phone fell. “Sorry, Gretchen!” he shouts.

I yank the bed away from the wall, he pulls the phone out, and before I can take it, he puts it to his ear. “Sorry, Gretchen,” he repeats. “Totally my fault.”

I sit on the bed, heaving a breath. When I look up, I find my sisters standing in my doorway, their mouths and eyes open wide.

Astrid’s lips shape into a wry smile. “We’ll be watching you two.”

I run a hand over my face. “Goodbye, Astrid.”

She and Millie turn on their heels and run, down the hall. Levi puts my phone back in my hand and sits beside me on the bed. When he kisses my cheek, I feel myself automatically leaning into him.

“Sorry I scared you so badly,” he whispers, his chuckle tickling my ear.

I lose it, then. I break into laughter so hysterical I’m pretty sure I’m going to cry. I press the phone to my ear, lying back on my bed, legs dangling off the edge next to Levi’s. (Although his feet actually touch the ground.)

“Gretchen?” I gasp into the phone.

She’s laughing just as hard as I am. “What just happened?”

“Levi…erm…surprised me.”

“Oh, my gosh! All I heard was screaming and then muffled talking and then a loud bang, and terrifying laughter.”

Levi lies down beside me, still chuckling. I move so he can tuck his arm under my head. “Sorry Gretchen,” he whispers again, his mouth close to the speaker on my phone (which means it’s also close to my mouth). I push him back a little, rolling my eyes.

“She forgives you,” I say, poking his ribs.

Gretchen protests, “I do not. Tell him I don’t forgive him! Oh, just let me talk to him.”

I turn on the speaker and Gretchen’s voice comes blaring through. “LEVI! I don’t forgive you.”

Levi gives me a bewildered look. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“Well.” Gretchen hmphs, like she’s blowing out a deep breath. “At least you’re treating my girl right.”

“I’m trying. I mean, I’ve only had a few days to get it wrong.”

I smile at this. “I can get off the phone,” I whisper, “if you want.”

“No, no. She was there first,” he says. “I’m fine hanging out here.”

My smile turns to a grin. “Okay.”

Gretchen, still on speaker, sighs heavily and says, “Levi, please tell me your hair is as glorious in real life as Bee makes it out to be.”

I stop. I freeze and squeak and oh my goodness Levi is looking at me, confused.

“What?” he asks. “What about my hair?”

Gretchen snorts. “Bee obsesses over your hair. She thinks it was made from gold when the gods fashioned it on Mount Olympus.”

“Bee likes my hair?” Levi sounds incredulous.

I want to dig my own grave right about…five minutes ago. “Gretchen, can you just talk about normal things, please?”

Gretchen laughs so loud it’s like she’s laughing into a microphone. “You miss me, Bee. Admit it.”

I’m a little sullen, about to reply that yes, I miss her very much thank you, but Levi gets there first. “Billie misses you all the time. It’s like the plague.”

“Billie?” Gretchen asks. “Is that a new nickname?”

Sudden terror grips me. “NO,” I say, too loud and too fast. “Levi’s trying to guess my name, but SHH GRETCHEN PLEASE DON’T TELL HIM!”

Levi grabs the phone from me, looking so suddenly vexed that I’m worried he’ll burst a blood vessel. “She knows? Gretchen, you know her name?!”

“Of course I know her name, I’m her best friend.” Gretchen sniffs.

“Gretchen, tell me,” Levi begs.

I gasp. “Gretchen Taylor McKenzie, if you betray me I will…do something horrible to you.”

Gretchen grunts. “I won’t betray you, Bee, just calm down. I just…can’t believe you haven’t told him.”

Levi pouts at me but speaks to Gretchen. “I’m her boyfriend now. I deserve to know.”

“One day, Levi, you’ll be promoted to Bearer of the Name.” Gretchen laughs. “It won’t be half as awful as you think.”

Levi thinks this is hilarious.

When the phone call is over, I lie next to Levi with his arm beneath my head and my arm slung over his stomach. I play with the seam of his shirt, feeling the soft fabric between my thumb and forefinger, my head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

This is so new. So raw. I feel like I’m opening up, piece by piece. Showing myself to the world. And it’s all Levi’s fault.

So I let him hold me, in this new way that feels like he’s drawing me out. He’s searching, reaching; I’m the one he wants. His finger—just a single, soft finger—runs up and down my arm. I resist the urge to shiver and lean into his touch, but it’s a losing battle. He laughs, quiet like a breath, and pulls me in tighter. It’s like he’s trying not to break the moment, same as me, and I thank him silently for it.

Of course, this is the exact moment that a blast of music from the Into the Woods musical hits my ears. We sit still, waiting for it to pass, but then it gets louder and closer. Astrid suddenly bursts into my room, iPod in hand, the song playing at full volume. She sings along with it, waving her hands in the air as she interprets the lyrics with her own dance. Levi sticks his leg out, trying to trip her, but she just flashes him a venomous look and keeps on dancing.

Astrid’s out of breath when the song comes to a clashing end. She bows like a performer and squeaks out, “We’re watching Into the Woods tonight after dinner if you want to join us.” Then she skitters out of the room and slams the door behind her. (I hear my mom yell, “Don’t shut the doors so hard! They’re too old for your abuse, Astrid!”)

Levi huffs out a long-held breath. “Was Astrid talking to me or you?”

I love that he doesn’t comment on Astrid’s ridiculous performance. “Um, both, I think.”

“Well. We’d better join the party, then.”

I feel a giggle escape my mouth. (I did not endorse the giggle, but that’s the way these things work, apparently. The boyfriend and the giggles are a package deal.) “You’re very nice to put up with her.”

“Astrid’s crazy, dude. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

I wiggle out of his arms, pulling him up with me, but when he makes a move for the door, I stop him. This time, I’m the one who leans in close. He holds my arm just below the elbow, my own hand resting on his stomach. When he turns his head, just an inch, I plant a kiss right on the hollow of his cheek, my nose against his cheekbone, and feel the caged butterflies in my stomach flap their wild wings in the beautiful agony of our close proximity.